Chapter 3

The Aristocrat Health Institute was one of the best private hospitals in the world.

Not only was it the most prestigious, but not everyone could afford to pay its exorbitant fees. Despite this, many people high on the social ladder, including powerful politicians, bureaucrats, and business tycoons, sought medical treatment here. The highly trained and experienced doctors and nurses working there were always ready to go the extra mile for their patients.

The Aristocrat Health Institute was also owned by the Matthews and Sons Group.

Elena barely remembered parking. She burst through the automatic doors, heading straight for reception when a familiar hand gripped her shoulder.

She turned to find Mr Jones standing with a taut expression on his old face. “This way,” 

Elena swallowed thickly and nodded. 

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She clenched them into fists as the elevator climbed, each floor lighting up like a countdown to disaster. "Just tell me what's happening," she demanded.

“You’ll know soon enough, Madam.”

When the elevator doors finally slid open, Mr. Jones led the way towards a private suite at the end of the corridor.

Her stomach dropped. Only one thing warranted this level of security - "Dad!" She shoved past them into the suite.

The figure in the bed wasn't her father.

It wasn’t her father on the bed, but was Josh, her brother.

She stared at his pale, battered face in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Josh?" Her voice cracked. Her brother lay motionless, his face swollen with bruises.

She grabbed his hand - still warm, but utterly lifeless. "What happened?"

"Car accident." Mr. Jones adjusted the IV line. "He hasn't woken since they brought him in."

Elena's knees buckled. She caught herself on the bedside rail. "And Dad?"

"The shock...it was too much for his heart. He's stable, but—" The butler hesitated. "Your sister-in-law didn't survive the crash."

The words didn't compute at first. Then they hit like a freight train.

"Claire's...dead?" "Hit and run. The police suspect—"

Elena felt numb. This was so surreal, so unbelievable.
The thought of losing her sister-in-law was almost too much for her to bear.
She sat on the bed next to her unconscious brother and held his hand, tears still flowing freely. But then another terrible thought came to her mind and her blood ran cold.

"Caleb." Elena's head snapped up. "Where's my nephew?"

"Pediatric wing. Minor injuries, but..." Mr. Jones cleared his throat. "There's more."

She knew that tone. The one servants used before delivering news that would shatter her world. "Out with it."

Elena  braced herself. Whatever it was, she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

“According to the doctors, your brother is in a coma.”

“Oh, no.” Elena’s chest tightened painfully.

“The doctors say there’s a chance he might wake up, but they’re not sure. They also say he might not survive the night. So, Madam, it’s up to you.”

“Up to me?” she echoed, confused.

“Yes. According to your brother’s will, you’re listed as the legal guardian of Caleb.”

Elena recoiled like she'd been slapped. "Stop talking like he's already gone!"

“I’m sorry, madam. But according to the doctors, we should be ready for the worst. If that happens, then you need to decide what to do. And you have to do it now.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong. He will wake up. He will.”

"The lawyers need—"

"Get out." Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Now."

When the door clicked shut, Elena collapsed into the chair. Josh's hand felt too cold in hers.

"Don't you dare die," she hissed, squeezing his fingers. "Your son needs you. I need you."

A tear splashed onto their joined hands. "You're all I have left."

“Josh, please,” she begged. “Please don’t die.”

Elena whispered prayers, squeezed his limp hand, begged him to wake up—but nothing changed. The machines kept beeping. His chest kept rising and falling. But his eyes stayed shut.

When the doctors asked her to leave, she dug her heels in.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The lead physician exchanged glances with his team. "We need to run tests. And..." He hesitated. "Your nephew's been moved from observation. He might wake soon. You should be there when he does."

Caleb. The thought punched through her grief. A six-year-old boy about to learn his mother was gone.

Elena dragged herself to her feet. The doctors swooped in the moment she stepped out, their hushed voices fading as the door clicked shut behind her.

She stood frozen in the hallway. She should go to Caleb. But how could she face him when she could barely hold herself together?

"The morgue first," she murmured.

Mr. Jones materialized beside her like a ghost. He didn't speak—just followed as she asked directions and took the elevator down.

The antiseptic stench hit her the moment the doors opened. Hospitals always smelled like death to her. Like her mother's last days.

She stopped outside the morgue, her hand hovering over the door.

"I'll wait here," Mr. Jones said softly.

Elena wiped her damp palms on her dress. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You can." His wrinkled face softened. "Strength isn't the absence of fear, Madam. It's facing what terrifies you."

One shaky breath. Then she pushed inside.

The room was cold, too bright. White sheets draped over still forms. Elena forced herself to the nearest table.

Just look. Say goodbye.

She pulled back the sheet.

Shelly looked peaceful—like she might sit up and laugh at any moment. Elena's fingers trembled as she brushed a strand of hair from her sister-in-law's face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. The words weren't enough. Nothing would be. "I'll take care of Caleb. I promise."

She lingered longer than she should have. Death didn't feel real here, in this sterile room. But the moment she re-covered Shelly's face, the truth crashed down: A little boy upstairs had just lost his mother.

---

Children's Ward

Elena's legs moved on autopilot. Each step echoed with awful what-ifs:

What if Josh never wakes up?

What if I'm all Caleb has left?

Her brother had always been her anchor. Without him...

She shook her head. Not now. Caleb needs you.

A red-eyed woman intercepted her outside the ward. "Maria—Caleb's nanny," she introduced herself with a wobbly smile. "He's been asking for his father."

Elena's throat tightened. "Does he know...?"

Maria shook her head.

Room 104 was too quiet. Caleb looked tiny in the hospital bed, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

"Aunt Elena?" His voice was hoarse from crying.

She sat carefully beside him. "Hey, buddy."

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's hurt, but the doctors are helping him." The half-truth tasted bitter.

Caleb's small hands fisted the sheets. "And Mommy?"

Elena's breath caught. She couldn't lie. Not about this.

The moment her silence stretched too long, Caleb's face crumpled. "No! Mommy!" He launched into her arms, his tiny body shaking with sobs.

Elena held Caleb as his sobs slowly quieted to hiccups. His small fingers clung to her sweater like she might disappear too.

Then her phone buzzed.

A text lit up the screen: Richard: Let’s get a divorce.

She stared at the words, waiting for the anger to hit. But nothing came. No rage, no hurt—just hollow acceptance.

He cheated and she cracked his skull. They're even.

Her thumb moved swiftly across the screen:

Elena: Agreed. I’ll have the papers sent.

No second thoughts. No regrets.